Something With a Prince

Chapter Sixty: Waking Dream

Tallethea

The prince didn't speak to me for a week. Then two weeks. I understood. After all, I did stab him.

But every night, after the rest of the castle went dreaming, Lansing would come into my room and crawl under the covers, pulling my body into his arms before falling fast asleep. For hours I'd lay awake, resting my forehead against his chest, silently accounting for each breath he took. Tucking in tight, my hands curled in the space between our bodies as he wrapped his arms over my shoulders. With our legs loosely intertwined, I often felt he was awake as well. Both of us pretending to sleep as if the shadows weren't enough to press our eyes shut. Other nights, the difficult ones, he would lay on the edge of the mattress with a turned away face, only offering his hand out in the sea of covers. I always took it.

If he was awake all those nights, Lansing never showed it.  I never risked pulling away from him to check. He grew used to soothing my nightmares, and so, I grew used to soothing his. At times I would feel him start up, awake and gasping out or gripping the sheets like an anchor. His breathing was usually shallow, hand searching the covers until it found mine. Then Lansing would pull a deep breath and relax. Those nightmares, I knew, were about the cathedral and the forest. All it took was me waking up, asking about it, listening for a reply but getting none, and then moving closer to him. After this the prince usually found sleep once more.

It was when Lansing would wrench up out of bed in complete silence that I knew he was dreaming of war. What he did on that battlefield. He often sat on the side of the bed, head in his hands, taking deep breaths. Then he would walk to the window and throw open the curtains, checking his skin for a trace of shadows in the moonlight...checking for blood. I never waited for him to come back to bed first. Pushing the covers away, my feet would hit the wooden floor and I would meet him by the window.

"I'm here. If you want to talk about it." Then I would reach out my hand, "And I'm here if you don't."

Lansing usually nodded, taking my outstretched hand, and letting me lead him back to bed. Sometimes he would pull me into a hug right there, and for long moments at a time we would stand like that. Those few moments were cherished beyond any others, and far more potent than memories of the bad. To say I wanted to talk to him about it all would be an understatement. The act of opening and letting those three days pour out of me would be liberating, but I knew if I tried it would get all messed up on the way out. By the end, Lansing and I would either be closer or one of us would be marching right back into that forest to seek vengeance. I didn't want that to happen. I didn't know what I wanted other than to be here and start again. I wanted to begin.

Some nights, I thought Lansing might say something. Turn on his side and tell me goodnight, that he's mad at me, anything. But he never does. Lansing just holds my hand, or holds me close, and when the sun breaks, I close the door on my way out. I haven't seen him touch a single book, or a weapon, and he refuses to attend court. No, that was Elleanor's job now. Lansing slept with me at night and watched over Arlyn during the day.

Despite being healed by Saorla, Arlyn still had trouble with his legs and walked permanently with a cane. If the King was not in court, he was with his brother...and I couldn't help but feel that was the right thing. Despite the twinge of jealousy, it gave me to see them together without me. After Mama left, I couldn't bear to go home, so I stayed in the castle. I feared seeing it empty, or worse, full of the things we shared, would send me over the edge. And I was tired of crying. Unfortunately, being tired of something doesn't stop it from happening. On the bright side, I was still allowed to keep my position as a foot-soldier.

Every morning I rose from my room in the castle and went back to the camp. Bodies were piled, buried, or burned. But none of them went unattended to. Even Dominic's. My hours were grueling, but at least Rai was there. Somehow, her curse words and endless stream of authority never grew old. Instead, they made me fond of her, admire her. Especially when I noticed she kept a handful of Dominic's earrings and used them as notch-holes for her sword strap. She gave the other half to Arlyn. I suspected the start of a very important friendship between us, and I believe she suspected it as well. After all, the Commander didn't share her lunch hour with just anybody. She also didn't call me an idiot as much.